


a winner to fall

by chili (sweatshirt)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6818035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweatshirt/pseuds/chili
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Howell is really bad at being a bad guy. Phil Lester is really good at being a good guy. And maybe some things override allegiances.</p><p>(Or, a supervillain/superhero AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. aptitude tests

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Underdog" by Kasabian!
> 
> You can find me at hishowell.tumblr.com .
> 
> \-- Oh, and this is very much a multichaptered fic. You're not missing anything. I promise they'll meet.

March 25th, 1998.

A tall blond man in a black suit is seated in the chair next to Phil. 

Phil’s taken tests before—rather hard ones—but this one feels a little different, if only because a terrifying buff man won’t stop staring at him. 

He tries not to think of his surroundings. He tries to think only of the words on the page in front of him. Which are not soothing his anxiety.

_3\. Are you a suspicious person?_  
a. I am suspicious of everyone.  
b. I am never suspicious.  
c. I am rarely suspicious.  
d. I am suspicious of some people. 

Phil chews on the stub of his pink eraser. He feels the man’s eyes on the side of his face. Well, the black-suited man seems to be suspicious of everyone. 

Phil brings his pencil to the page and, with heavy pressure, marks the bubble labeled c. He’s got nothing to be suspicious about, really. Except for maybe aliens. (Mulder seems to know what he's talking about.)

Phil only hopes his answer doesn’t get him placed in some asylum. Those are only fun in horror movies.

October 6th, 2009.

Dan Howell lights a cigarette. Or, well, he tries to. Somehow he drops it and in the process, he singes his wrist with the tip.

Chris looks over to him, and Dan gives him a sheepish look. 

The cigarette lies on the ground, utterly useless. It’s all rather metaphorical.

Chris sighs. “You said that Mr. Terrence would be coming through the bank door at nine o’clock.” He takes a drag and exhales smoke before continuing. “It’s quarter past.”

“Yeah, I _said._ Sometimes I’m wrong.”

“I don’t get that. It’s a superpower. It’s supposed to be accurate. Imagine if Spiderman jumped the approximate distance between two buildings. Boom! No more Spiderman.”

Dan laughs. The cold air irritates his throat. “Well, I’m not Spiderman.”

“No shit,” Chris replies.

They wait on the corner near the dry cleaner’s for another fifteen minutes before Dan tells Chris that his fingers, and certain other body parts, are literally about to turn blue and freeze off. 

“Fine. Do you want hot chocolate?”

Dan does. He really does.

— 

Chris stares at Dan for a few seconds, his mouth in a thin line. Dan knows that means he’s thinking. 

“I want you to tell me about this coffee cup,” Chris finally says. Dan rolls his eyes, but he takes the cup from Chris.

“It says it's... made in China,” Dan says, tracing his finger along the bottom.

“No, you tosser. Do your weird magic touch thing.”

Dan sighs. He doesn’t like using his psychometry—he’s aware of how ridiculous that is, because it is a _superpower._ But it always leaves him with a slight headache and gross taste in his mouth that takes about three cans of Monster to wash away.

He grasps the cup with all ten fingers and closes his eyes. He feels the energy channel into his fingertips. He can feel microscopic ridges on the cup. Little imperfections in the factory process that never got removed.

“It’s… six days old and, um, made out of… recycled paper. When one of the baristas was making an Arnold Palmer, a bit of lemonade got splashed onto it. And then, well, it’s now. You bought it.”

Dan opens his eyes. Chris isn’t staring at him with amazement or horror that Dan’s come to expect from witnesses of this trick. He just looks really peeved, and exhausted. 

“So you can go on and on about some shitty paper cup, but you can’t give me the information that will allow us to get Terrence’s assets?” Chris cringes and looks down. “Well that was a bit harsh,” he mumbles. 

Dan can feel his cheeks reddening, which is the last thing he wants to happen. “No. I-It’s been weird the past few days, honestly.” He pauses, pursing his lips.  
“I think there’s something… fucking with the energy. Or… someone.”

He wishes that Chris could hear the suspenseful music currently playing on loop in his head.


	2. faulty wiring

October 10th, 2009

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Jack says out of the blue as the four Brigadiers eat vegan burritos. 

Dodie frowns. “Okay, nice quote, but what does it have to do with the Reserve?”

“Who would be their other enemy in this scenario?” Phil pipes up. 

Jack doesn’t respond, looking like he’s been struck by genius. He stands and walks over to the whiteboard at the front of the boardroom, like a CEO presenting his startup idea to investors.

“Look, it’s not ideal but there are plenty of people out there. Skilled people, like us, but who were hired by the Reserve. And then mistreated because of their… skills. A lot of them are scared now, in hiding.” 

Hazel nods. “Yeah. Yeah, we can work with them, because I’m sure they just want to stay safe. And they probably don’t even know about the JB.”

“Lots of people don’t. People think I work for Justin Bieber,” Phil says absentmindedly. 

“So, how are we going to find these people?” 

Phil chuckles when he notices Hazel is already on her laptop. “There’s your answer, Dod. Internet powers in action.” Of course, Hazel didn’t exactly have internet powers. Phil had originally assumed she was a normal old Muggle, assigned to prevent Phil from accidentally exploding everything. He found out after two years of friendship that she was actually superpowered as well – with telepathy. Hazel tried as hard as she could to suppress it, which meant pouring her time into hacking. 

He understands the urge to suppress a superpower. 

“I’ve already found one guy. James Ginnon. Twenty seven years old, lives in Bristol. He was allied with the Reserve for five years.” 

Phil got the sinking feeling that he knew where the case was going. 

Dodie was going to interrogate the employees, because teleportation. Hazel was research-o-matic. Jack would find any bad guys and knock them cold. 

And Phil would stand by and just be Phil from the Justice Brigade, like he’d been for the past ten years. He’d study cold cases and run experiments with Research and Development or the Graff Center. And maybe help people charge their phones. 

In line with his predictions, Phil is handed a printed file about Ginnon’s household dog. He turns to bring it to the R&D unit, but Hazel stops him. “Phil. Do you want to go with Dodie in case Ginnon becomes hostile?” 

Phil’s eyebrow twitches. He thinks Hazel can sense his apprehension.

“Which probably won’t happen,” she quickly adds. “Just remember,” her voice drops to a whisper, “you passed all those tests. You’re cleared for field work again.” 

Phil nods and gives Hazel a weak smile. “I’m feeling kind of tired,” he says, and turns to walk away. 

There’s a definite lumpiness in his throat.

Every employee of the Justice Brigade has to trust tests. And Phil does. He wouldn’t be where he is today without them. But Phil isn’t sure he trusts his test results to prevent another incident like the one with Simon.

October 11, 2009

Dan waits outside the large cast iron doors of Stockton University’s Graff Center. 

He had already examined the doors and learned that the large cast iron doors are seventy four years old, and that they had been locked since eleven fifteen A.M. He got the sense that those men will be returning at twelve P.M., although he didn’t trust his predictions for future events. 

Which is why he came to the Graff Center. 

The Rhos Reserve has certain allies in other institutions, and Stockton University is one of them. They don't tell the public that these medical oddities are actually superpowered, not diseased. In return, professors get to study some of the most biologically unique humans alive. 

“What can we help you with, young man?”

Dan turns his neck to view the speaker. It’s a big burly guy in a security guard’s uniform. And the question sounds more like a threat than a question.

“I’m here to meet a friend.” Probably not a good idea to say you’re here to kidnap a professor of biomedical engineering and force him to fix your superskills.

The guard squints his beady eyes. “What’s his name, son?”

Dan hopes he doesn't look as clueless as he feels. He tells his brain to think, goddamnit. PJ told him he was going to see a professor, and he definitely knew the name of his assistant. Was it Percy? Philip?

“Lester,” he blurts out. “Phillip. Lester.” 

“Right,” the security guard says. “Got identification, son?”

Thank God for PJ and his bizarrely creative brain. Dan quickly pulls out one of PJ's custom fake license. It identifies him as Anthony Padilla, a twenty one year old film student at the University of Edinburgh. 

The guard buys it. 

He’s in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely feedback on Chapter One! If you have any thoughts, negative or positive, please let me know. This is my first long, multichaptered fic and I'm a bit new to the format. Especially let me know if you're super confused by the plot. There are a lot of elements that make sense in my head because I've written the rest of the fic and know how they intersect, but everybody is not me, the author.
> 
> I will try to update on a organized schedule: right now it's pretty much every day or every other day.
> 
> Find me @ hishowell.tumblr.com


	3. dipole to dipole

October 11, 2009  (12:49)

Phil likes the dark. Which is probably a bit strange for a lightning-power-guy, now that he thinks of it. It always reminded him of his old bedroom, or his grandparent’s house during thunderstorms. 

He even likes the dark when he’s studying slides of mutated plant cells. It adds that whole X-Files aspect. (That show was really poorly lit.)

“Jesus, it’s dark.”

Phil turns his neck quickly to see who’s there. Apparently not everyone appreciates the working conditions. 

“Hi,” the man says. He’s standing in the doorway of the lab, and Phil can only see a silhouette. 

“Hello? Sorry, the lab’s not open for classes now, if that’s what you were—“

“No. I’m actually here to ask Professor Buchanan a question. I guess he’s not in.”

Phil realizes the man has made his way to the lab table. He turns on the light switch near his seat, and the man’s features come into focus. Phil can see that he’s actually closer to a “boy” than “man”. 

“He's not. I can text him... What’s your name?” 

“Anthony Padilla.”

“Well, Anthony, I’ll write your name down here. And then he’ll answer your question. I hope.”

The boy nods but his brow is furrowed. He taps his fingers for a few seconds before speaking.

“I actually have to go back to Edinburgh tomorrow. Is there any way you could help me with this.. question?”

“Yeahhh? I mean, I’m just an assistant. I mostly just know about plants.”

“I like plants,” the boy—Anthony—says, and there’s a hint of a smile on his face.

“That’s what I’m looking at now, if you wanna take a look.” Anthony walks over behind Phil and leans his neck over Phil’s shoulder to peer into the microscope.

“Wow. Those _are_ plants.”

Phil looks up at him. “I’m guessing you’re not here to ask me about plant cells, though.”

Anthony chuckles a bit, and strolls over to the other side of the table and sits down. “No, I’m not. I’m looking for info about something a bit weirder.”

October 11, 2009 (13:24)

Dan expects Phil’s eyes to widen when he brings up his psychic ability. He actually had a whole speech planned, to convince Phil or any other layperson at the uni that it was a real thing.

Instead, Phil just nods, his eyes as stoicly psychotic as ever. 

“Never met someone with psychometry.” He slowly smiles. “That’s pretty amazing. Can you use it to find missing socks?” 

“I’ve never tried.” Dan cracks a smile, but his feet are tapping non-stop underneath the table.

“I change my mind. You shouldn’t. Socks are good pair-less, in my opinion.”

Dan makes a mental note to look up whether pairless is a word. Phil doesn’t seem to notice the bemused look Dan is giving him. He spins his desk chair to face the supply cabinet. “What are you looking for?”

Dan is pretty damn sure this is the part where he’s supposed to incapacitate the guy and drag him into a black van. He even thinks it’s in his big Morally Ambiguous Superpowered Dude Handbook. And it's for practical reasons: Dan knows that the interrogation rooms and other rooms are only at the Reserve, and he can’t be conscious during the trip over to the Rhos Reserve. They have rules about secrecy. 

It’s just, he already knows Phil will be such an annoying hostage. He wishes the professor had been there-- instead he has to settle for second best. 

Those concerns don't stop Dan from coming up from behind Phil and quickly injecting him with the incapacitating agent. Phil doesn’t succumb easily, which adds to Dan’s annoying hostage theory. His usual targets have been out of shape bankers or politicians. Instead, he fights the effects as much as he can, moving his arms frantically, trying to hit Dan hard enough to cause him to let go. 

“Sorry,” Dan whispers into Phil’s right ear as Phil’s eyelids slowly close and his muscles go slack. 

He might mean it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General note: There is going to be sliiiightly more violence from here on out, folks. I'll give trigger warnings when I can but unfortunately I feel that they spoil the plot. It'll continue to be rated T, so nothing too graphic or disturbing.
> 
> I also want to say that I do not condone kidnapping or drugging. This is not going to be one of those fics where some guy holds another guy hostage and abuses him and they still fall in love. Dan's actions are wrong.
> 
> As always, I'm on tumblr @ hishowell. I will probably add another chapter update tonight. Thank you all for the great feedback.


	4. potential energy

October 11, 2009 (15:02)

Phil’s eyes open to a blinding light. His head hurts. He has an ankle monitor that won’t let him pull his foot away. 

He’s on a couch in what looks like a normal corporate office. Phil’s pretty sure it’s not Dunder Mifflin, though. Unless they’ve gotten into the whole kidnapping business.

He takes inventory. He doesn’t feel any pain in his abdomen, so they’ve probably not stolen his organs for alien research or human-chimpanzee hybrids. Although you never know.

“You’ve woken up,” a voice says. Phil hears the office door close. He’s still seeing double to an extent, but he’s sure it’s Anthony. If that was his _real_ name.

“Get me out,” he growls, in the most menacing voice he can manage. 

Anthony mocks discomfort. “Ooohh. Not gonna happen.” Phil glares at him. Anthony’s smirk fades.

“Look, I realize how this could seem shitty. But I’m-- I’m just following the rules of my organization.”

Phil rolls his eyes. He hears this all the time; even the big fish in crime organizations said they were just following orders. Take some responsibility, people.

“Your organization says you have to kidnap every grad student you meet?”

Anthony just reddens and purses his lips. All glee originally found on his face is gone.

“We do what we have to,” he says, barely above a mumble. 

“You won’t tell me anything else, then just tell me your name. Your real name.”

“Dan Howell,” the boy says.

Phil hmmphs. It suits him. Of course, he should have a middle name like “the worst” or “kidnapper” for it to be fully accurate.

As Dan moves over to untie Phil’s feet, Phil remembers something. It’s a bit thrilling and a bit scary. He puts it in the back of his mind in case Dan gets dangerous.

“Fine. I’ll do what you want me to do if you let me go.”

Dan smiles, flashing his canine teeth. “That was always part of the deal.”

Phil wants to warn Dan that his looks can literally kill, possibly in a threatening way. He wishes he was wearing a cool leather jacket. Then that point would really go across. 

October 11, 2009 (17:25)

“This is not standard procedure,” Tom says.

“I just don’t think this is a good idea,” Dan whispers into the phone. He’s standing outside one of the Reserve’s labs while Phil stares into the microscope. He doesn’t even look back at Dan. He’s like a caged animal. And that makes Dan the evil zookeeper.

“PJ tells me it was your idea, though.”

“Yeah, Tom, it was… I was going to interrogate his professor. Find out if anyone from the Justice Brigade has mentioned anything about my powers. This kid doesn’t know anything. This is cruel.”

“You’re making him run lab work?”

Dan sighs. “Yes. It’s just those skin cells we have. I didn’t know what else to do. Please just let me let him go.”

Dan’s very much aware that he sounds like he’s talking about some scruffy stray cat that he picked up off the street. Tom seems to be too.

“Fine. Blindfold him before you do, then bring him out the entrance on Mulaney Street.”

“What—blindfold him? That’s so… old school.”

Of course, Tom has already hung up. 

Dan shrugs to nobody in particular and gets the bandanna from his pocket. He makes sure it’s not one of this chloroform covered bandannas, then opens the lab door. 

“We’re letting you go,” he says to Phil, in the softest voice he can manage. 

Phil still refuses to turn around. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I kind of make a lot of those lately.” Oh, yes, voice, now is a perfect time to crack, Dan thinks. Being eighteen certainly does not help his badass cred.

Phil lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. Dan walks over to the other boy, until they’re standing two feet away. Phil has lifted his head from the microscope, and is now gazing at the wall as if the ugly 1970s wallpaper is interesting. Dan slowly brings the bandanna to Phil’s head. He’s expecting Phil to stiffen and then submit when he realizes he’s being transported away.

That’s not what happened. Dan realizes this when he regains consciousness and he’s lying on the floor. His hair is singed, his muscles are stiff. This must be how it feels to be victim of a lightning strike. This must be how it feels to receive payback for kidnapping someone.

Most importantly, Phil is nowhere to be seen, and he bets his entire collection of Muse records that Phil had something to do with Dan’s current electrocuted state.


	5. stockholm (syndrome?)

October 11, 2009 (19:03)

Phil pounds on Jack’s door. It hurts his fist, and it’s not the most polite way of getting his attention, but there are trying circumstances here.  
After about 18 fists-to-the-door, Jack opens it up. 

“I… was kidnapped,” Phil blurts out.

“What?” Jack says, before shaking his head and dragging Phil inside the house by the scruff of the neck. He gives Phil a tight hug, overcome by emotion, then looks back up at him. 

“What?!” he repeats.

“Yeah. That’s why I didn’t answer my calls. They broke my phone.”

Jack takes a look at the cracked brick in Phil’s back pocket then shakes his head. 

“Sit down, mate. Are you okay? I’m the worst, I didn’t even ask.”

“Considering all that happened, probably.” He sighs, and his voice is shaky when he tells Jack, “I did kind of use my powers again.”

Jack nods, his eyes wide with concern. He holds up a finger—one second—and gets up to put on the tea kettle. 

“Well, that’s fine… Right? You know, you’re allowed to. In the correct circumstances.”

“I know that. And this guy deserved it. One minute we’re talking about socks, next thing I know I’m lying on a couch in some evil office.”

“Evil office?” Jack asks bemusedly. His face falls. “You don’t think it was the Rhos Reserve, d’you?”

No. He didn’t think at all. Damn. 

“I guess it might’ve been. I was kind of… confused the whole time.” Phil pauses. “Psychometry! This guy, Dan Howell, he knew psychometry. He was superpowered.”

Jack furrows his brow in thought, then shrugs. “Doesn’t ring a bell. But don’t worry, we’ll get the motherfucker. If you haven’t messed him up for life.” 

The kettle boils and Jack gets up. His tone was joking, but Phil can’t laugh about his powers. It’s too soon, as those kids say. 

Phil never considered that Dan could be seriously injured. He was focused on his own escape. And he shouldn’t worry, because Dan’s a total not-good guy. That's what his logical brain is telling him. But the part of his brain that cries at every Miyasaki movie, the emotional part, is now flickering back to the image of Dan lying on the ground.

October 13, 2009  
He's recovered quickly. The only lasting scars from Phil’s lightning attack were two symmetrical lines on his wrists, where Dan’s skin had been burned white. It would make a pretty damn cool tattoo under different circumstances.

“Maybe I should get a tattoo,” Dan muses. He and Chris are in the midst of their daily Justice Brigade research session. Being a secret organization and all, it’s hard to find a list of the JB employees, but Dan just knows Phil is involved. He also knows that Phil is the cause of all his current problems. 

“You couldn’t pull off a tattoo."

“Yeah? What if it was a Pokemon tattoo?” 

“Fine. You could pull off a tattoo if it was a cheap Magikarp tattoo done by a teenager.”

“Thank you,” Dan says half sarcastically. He traces his scar with his finger again, listening to Chris type away madly. 

“Oh. Shit,” Chris exclaims. “I found something.”

“Phil?” Dan hopes his voice didn’t actually sound that excited.

“No. No, this is someone else. He used to work for us but he was let go dishonorably. And he just published a research paper on ‘Controlling Psychometry’. Doesn’t exactly seem like a coincidence.”

“So, not Phil.” 

“Not your Justice Brigade boyfriend, Daniel.”

Dan glares with all the venom he can master. Phil isn't even his _type._ Chris knows that.

Chris shuts his laptop and springs to his feet, walking to the closet of their Reserve dormitory. He looks around, discarding Clark Kent glasses and wigs before pulling out two white lab coats.

“Hope you’re ready to go undercover,” Chris says with a smile that's only partially demented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have shockingly little to say for this chapter. It's a bit shorter. Hope you like it. I'm still updating regularly!


	6. Behavioral Sciences

October 15, 2009

In the past four days, Phil Lester has consumed an unhealthy amount of cappuccinos. And people have noticed. Specifically blonde, Irish women named Hazel.

“It’s a better vice than meth!” He’s aware of the lameness of his defense.

“You know people can die from caffeine poisoning, right?” She looks at him with intense eyes. Like an Irish lioness. Who also fights crime.

“That’s probably not true,” Phil replies, and he takes another sip. 

He has been on edge lately, and he’s sure that the caffeine levels in his blood aren’t helping, but he needs it to stay awake each day. His bedtime has gotten even later, which he didn’t think was possible since he used to go to sleep at 3 am. Not because of any problem, as he used to assure his mom, it's just his weird internal clock.

Now, he goes through the same routine every night. Like a less funny version of Groundhog Day.

At about 1 am, he lies down and attempts to sleep. It doesn’t work. His mind cycles through the same list of thoughts: Simon, the JB, Dan, school, Dan, Simon, Dan. At 2 am, he gives up and plays videogames for 2 hours. Finally, at 4:30 or so, he’ll pass out, usually next to a soggy bowl of Captain Crunch. 

“You don’t look good,” Hazel mutters from the seat next to Phil. They ordered the vegan burritos with avocado this time. It's a dangerously good discovery.

“Yeah,” Phil replies, although it’s more like a sigh. He knows—he hasn’t even tried to hide the circles under his eyes.

“God, who are you and where did you put Phil Lester? Because this isn’t him.”

“I just have a lot on my mind, is all.”

“That guy?” Hazel’s voice drops to a whisper. Jack had filled her in on the kidnapping.

“Yeah. And Simon. It’s all…” Phil uses his index finger to make loops in the air. 

“A vicious cycle,” Hazel says. Phil loves how she understands his admittedly bizarre Phil Lester language. 

“When the guy, Dan, was lying on the ground, he looked _so_ much like Simon. I didn’t think about it then, but it just keeps popping into my brain." He pauses.

"Maybe I should finally go visit Simon.”

The second he says the plan out loud, he knows he’s going to have to do it.

October 16, 2009  
Dan tugs at his starched labcoat sleeves. “This really isn’t fashion-forward,” he whispers to Chris as they walk through busy white hallways. 

Chris just shrugs, apparently not at all concerned with style or comfort. Like a peasant. 

Sensing his grumpiness, Chris speaks up.

“You’re the one who kidnapped a random guy to try to fix your powers,” Chris says. “I don’t think going to a laboratory in London is that much worse.”

“It wasn’t a random guy. I _promise_ he’s sabotaging me. We need to keep looking for—” At that moment, Dan stops talking, because his head is too busy being slammed into someone else’s. When the pain dies down, he attempts to apologize. 

“Sorry. Sorry,” he says hastily. He looks up to find the most handsome man in London, and probably on Planet Earth. Blue eyes (really blue eyes, wow) and light brown hair, and what the hell this man is doing at a research laboratory? He looks nothing like the stereotypical nerd. 

“No, it’s okay. Really.” He says ‘really’ in the way that only posh people say it. 

Dan speaks before his brain has time to form coherent sentences.

"Oh. Okay with you, okay with me, then." 

Chris shoots Dan a glance and pipes up. “Are you Dr. Lockley?” 

“Oh. Yes, that’s me.” His expression looks a bit confused, possibly from the developing concussion Dan must have given him. 

“Ian Hecox,” Chris says, holding out his hand for Dr. Lockley to shake. “I’m in residency at St. John’s Hospital. And this is Anthony Padilla," Chris points to Dan. "He’s in pre-med at Edinburgh.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dr. Lockley says. 

“I’m sorry about my friend. We were actually coming to meet with you.”

“Oh?” He starts walking, and motions Dan and Chris to follow him. 

Chris continues talking as the three of them walk. “Yes. I’m interested in curing psychometry. You know, being able to sense objects with one’s mind. My team and I have found that it causes extreme psychological deficits.”

Dr. Lockley pushes open the door. “And… what exactly makes you think I know anything about this subject?”

“You’re not looking at me like I've grown a fourth arm,” Chris quips.

Dr. Lockley sighs. “Alright, yes. I am the premier expert on psychic powers. You’ll have to forgive my secrecy. There aren’t many people interested in it.”

“I was wondering if you had any papers you were working on—I read your other one and it was great, but I’m looking for—“ 

The doctor walks through the doorway of his office. He looks around for half a minute, then hands Dan a manila folder. There’s something undeniably cute about handsome guys holding classified documents. “There,” he says. “You can skim it, but don’t let it leave this room.” 

“Of course,” Chris says. Dan feels the file. He squints his eyes and tries to find out its source, but his connection to psychic powers is almost completely gone. It feels like using a video game console on a television set that’s turned off. 

So he takes a look at it the boring normal way, as Dr. Lockley and Chris stand by. He’s going to need an expert to read it—or someone who took more than a year of biology—but a quick scan of the research seems to show a previously undiscovered connection between psychic powers and electromagnetic fields. Which still doesn’t answer why Dr. Lockley would want to sap Dan’s powers, as Chris claims. 

Or why he’s dumb enough to give them the answers. 

Dan shuts the manila folder and lifts his arm to give it to Lockley. “Thank you,” he says, blushing slightly. 

“Thanks,” Chris echoes. The two of them smile politely.

Then, in a flash, Chris grabs the file from Dan’s hands and disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead! 
> 
> Will hopefully update more frequently. I actually need to finish this within three weeks because then I have work and classes and very little WiFi. Anyways. As always, find me on tumblr @hishowell and let me know your thoughts!
> 
> (Oh-- if you were wondering after this chapter, this is not a fic about Dan/OMC. Although isn't it interesting that Dan seems to like men with blue eyes?)


	7. Transfiguration

October 18th, 2009

Phil doesn’t drink often, but when he does, it’s after he sees his former best friend lying in a coma. That he caused.

He can safely say it’s been a long day.

After Phil visits Simon’s house, he walks to a bar in the neighborhood. It’s far enough from his flat that none of his work friends will find him. 

He orders the usual fruity low-alcohol drink that his girlfriends, and even some boyfriends, would tease him about drinking. "A twink drink," one called it. For the first few minutes at the bar, he just twirls the little umbrella in the glass, watching the ice cubes spin around and melt. 

“Eeyore, hi,” Phil hears a voice next to him say. He turns his head, and there on the stool next to him is Dan Howell. Evil McEvil Face, as Phil called him in his head, although that’s probably not his given name.

“Huh?” Phil should not be talking to this guy, he really shouldn’t, but Phil’s curious and friendly and talkative to a fault. And he’s realizing now that although he went to this bar to escape his friends, he wants to see a familiar face.

“You’re like Eeyore. You know, Winnie the Pooh?”

Phil shakes his head. 

Dan looks offended, as if Phil personally murdered a kitten in front of him. 

“The best book series ever?”

Phil gives him a sympathetic shrug, and takes a sip of his drink.

“Oh my god, you haven’t read Winnie the Pooh. Wow. Wow. Do you even know culture?”

Dan's expression softens at Phil's raised eyebrow. “Looks good,” he says, pointing at Phil's pink cocktail, and Phil can hear the genuineness in his voice.  
As well as the obvious intoxication.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he tells Dan pointedly. Again a voice in his head tells him to just stop talking to Dan and leave this bar. But his legs feel glued to the barstool, and he can't say why.

“Oh. Probably. I’m celebrating,” Dan says, leaning towards Phil, and he must be drunk if he’s treating Phil like an old friend. 

“Celebrating what?” 

“Tomorrow I’m getting this weird superserum, and it looks sketchy but Chris—my invisible friend—tells me it works. He stole it from this hot doctor. And if it works, I’ll be a superhero again. I’ll be better than ever.”

“Oh. Awesome!” Phil says it before he can register how ridiculous that is. “I mean, not awesome. You’re evil and… mean.” 

That doesn’t seem to faze Dan at all. In fact, his expression becomes even gooier, and Phil’s eyes grow wider.

“What is it?” Phil asks. He drains his own drink. 

“I feel really bad about that whole kidnapping thing. I will apologize to you about it—for it. And… it will be majestic.” Phil chuckles. He pats Dan on the back despite himself, because the guy is just so vulnerable. 

A meaner person would say pathetic. 

A different person would say cute. 

"I have to get back home soon." Phil stands up to leave, and then sits back down slowly. 

“Do you want a ride home? I don’t want you getting killed, even if you sort of tried to kill me.”

Dan’s big brown eyes grow wide. “Yeah,” he says, layers of gratitude in his voice. 

“Okay. I’ll go call us a cab. Do you even have a home?”

“I have a home, I’m a very normal person,” Dan states defensively. Phil laughs a little under his breathe. He puts a hand on Dan's waist to steady his gait, and the two of them walk to the sidewalk, their bodies pressed a bit closer than is entirely necessary.

October 19th, 2009

Dan finds Phil’s phone number on a sticky note on the back of his iPhone. Underneath his digits, Phil has written “if you’ve been killed by bears after the cab ride.” Dan chuckles, even with his temple pain and grogginess. 

He gets a drink of water from his bathroom, and goes back to sit on his bed. Dan punches the numbers into his keypad.

“Hello?” Phil sounds far too alert for—what is it, seven thirty in the morning? He realizes that Phil had barely drank last night, like a well-adjusted human being. 

“Hi. This is Dan.”

“Oh, my nemesis!"

“Actually, Chris convinced me that you’re not the one sabotaging me, so it’s sort of one sided nemesisness.” 

“Glad to hear that,” Phil says cautiously. “Why’d’you call me?”

“Um, thanks for getting me home last night.” 

There’s a two second pause. Dan almost believes that Phil has hung up, and then he mentally reprimands himself for even caring. 

“Why’d you really call me though?” Phil’s voice is deep, serious, and in that moment Dan can hear more of his Northern accent. It’s intriguing. He also realizes, at that moment, that he knows next to nothing about Phil’s personal life due to Chris’ lackluster background check skills. 

“I know something’s going on with you, whether you’re a free agent or at the Justice Brigade. I don’t care. I just want to know—ever heard of a guy called Lockley?”  
Phil clicks his tongue on the other end. “Lockley,” he muses. “If I did, why should I tell you?”

“Because you’re nice, and I’m taking advantage of your extreme kindness?”

“Try again,” Phil says, like a game show host. There’s a smile in his voice somewhere.

“Because he could hurt you, or any of your other superhero friends, and I can stop him.”

Dan hears typing on the other end. Phil gets back on the line. “We don’t have much in our database—um, my database. But Lockley associates with a guy I know named James Ginnon. Not in a good way, it seems. At least for you.”

“Then we should meet again.”

Phil sighs. “No,” he says. “I don’t think we should.”

Thinking fast, Dan prepares to unleash a pump-up speech of epic proportions onto Phil Lester.

“You know something’s coming, something big. It’s not just me. I get if you don’t trust me, but this is even bigger than any of us. It’s about everyone with powers. We should talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any thoughts, criticisms, comments, tell me! 
> 
> also, you should all take a listen to the song "underdog" by kasabian, because it was the title for the whole fic.


	8. natural stimulants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mythological has happened-- an author has updated a work after a year-long hiatus. 
> 
> I'm graduated now, I have more free time, and the current political situation here in the USA is really fueling my cyborg apocalypse superhero inspiration. Thanks for sticking with this fic, those of you who have, and I will genuinely begin updating again. This isn't a fluke

They meet at the same coffee shop that Dan and Chris had visited the week prior. Phil is there before Dan, sitting at the coffee bar and swiveling his chair back and forth. It's endearing in its goofiness. Like a lot of things Phil does.

"Hey," Dan says. "Thanks. Thanks for meeting with me. I know I've been a dick."

Phil looks over and chuckles. "Bit of an understatement."

"Okay, yes, I've been a felon. We've been over this."

They stare at each other. Dan feels bold, so he adds, "You're here, so you can't hate me too much."

Phil can't hide a shy smile. The tips of his ears turn pink. Was this flirting? He never really dated much. He had a girlfriend in high school, but that went a bit topsy-turvy for a lot of reasons.

"We should get to work," Phil says. "I have some documents that my friend found. Dunno why I'm trusting you, but..."

He opens a manila folder and passes some of the papers to Dan. They read in silence for a few minutes as they drink their coffee. 

Most of the information isn't a huge shock to Dan-- it's standard stuff about the history of the rivalry between the Rho Reserve and the Brigadiers. Chris and PJ told him everything as soon as he joined their little supersquad. The Brigadiers used to be part of the Rho Reserve, but they wanted escape from the harsh rule of the Reserve's president, Markham Digby. So they splintered off fifty years ago. The Reserve's reputation has improved, but there's still shady happenings behind the scenes. Dan accepts the ambiguity in being a contractor for the Reserve. Better that than join a bunch of Silicon Valley bros who are too into ideological purity. 

Although, now he's starting to wonder if the Brigadiers have some good points.

There are blog posts about contractors like him-- psychometrics, telekinetics, circus freaks-- who have been human guinea pigs for the Rho Reserve's programs. Some wanted to strengthen their powers. Others wanted to lessen their abilities, out of fear or the urging of a parent. The procedures usually result in faulty Rho Reserve technology implanted in their bodies, and side effects like head aches, hallucinations, and strange muscle spasms. 

Dan gets a bad feeling at the bottom of his stomach. It's not just the cold coffee. 

"Seems like they're making an army," he mumbles. 

Phil nods. "That's exactly what I've been thinking."


End file.
